A-C-B: Dash to Salta and Our Last Day with Carlos

On November 1st Carlos, Joan, and I arose early, facing a 608 km (according to Google Maps), or 377 mile, drive across the Chilean border and through the mountains and salt flats to Salta, Argentina. The post-Halloween streets of San Pedro were empty.

Looking south from the hotel door.

Looking north from the hotel door.

The journey was a retracing of our steps four days before and then some. Crossing back into Argentina wasn't as time-consuming as entering Chile, because there were no car or luggage inspections for contraband agricultural products. We stopped for lunch at the same excellent but visually unimpressive restaurant as on the outbound trip. Several mountain passes rolled underneath Carlos' tires.

 Our last day at high altitudes.

On the salt flats we could make time, but on the twisty mountain roads, often behind car carriers, well ...

From Purmamarca we headed south towards Salta as the sun drifted lower and lower. Our final destination was the Hotel Selva Montana, in the upscale suburb San Lorenzo.

This was our room. Joan and I enjoyed frequent visits by various species of hummingbirds that were attracted to the flowering bushes outside our window.

We had dinner a few blocks away, at a restaurant/bar connected with the Quebrada de San Lorenzo, a municipal reserve/park. There Carlos offered us an option that was "good news/bad news." The bad news was that we would, again, rise early tomorrow. The good news was that we had the opportunity to join a small birding group that would be taking a tour of a private reserve, guided by the owner. Our existing itinerary was for a private tour of that reserve with a ranger who knew the trails but not so much about the birds. Joan and I voted eagerly for the new option.

The view the next morning.

After breakfast those hotel guests going on the tour of the Reserva del Huaico followed the owner, Ricardo Clark, as he drove the short distance to the entrance.

The reserve is in a climate/topography referred to as the Yungas, basically a wet, forested, mid-altitude (3,900 to 8,200 ft) ecosystem.

Initially our walk was on a wide track; later it would be on footpaths.

Of course we had more success with our binoculars than I did with my camera. The first photo I captured was this golden-billed saltator.

Most of these images are looking up into the trees.

Next was a rusty-browed warbling finch.

With this lighting, a bird has merged with the tree.

A great kiskadee, looking the other way ...

and a black-backed grosbeak.

Our path wound partway up a hill. From there, we could see the protected forest of the reserve, suburban land, and farmed/grazed hillside beyond.

Click on the image to enlarge.

At the end Ricardo talked with us about the programs he offers at Reserva del Huaico, and Joan and I made a small donation.

For lunch Carlos, Joan, and I returned to the Quebrada de San Lorenzo and the restaurant where we'd dined the night before. We walked up through the reserve through tracks initially broad and threaded among picnic spots.

After the way transformed into a narrow path we saw a rufous-throated dipper in one stream, although he refused to turn enough to flash his rufous bib.

Carlos seemed eager to depart with time to spare for the Salta airport, where Joan and I would fly to the Buenos Aires domestic airport (AEP). On arrival we found out why; there had been a "job action" at AEP that morning, and flight schedules were out of whack. When we checked in the Aerolineas Argentinas agent found us seats on the earlier flight to AEP, which was delayed to about the time of the flight we were supposed to take, which would arrive who knows when. Even though Joan and I wouldn't be in the same row, we were happy. For the inconvenience she waived the overweight baggage fee for one of our two bags. She was being very considerate, something we are unaccustomed to with Aerlolineas Argentinas, but we still needed to stand in line to pay the baggage fee for the other duffel.

Carlos escorted us as far as the security station for our block of gates, which wasn't operating yet. We had a chance to chat about the trip and thank Carlos for being our guide. He may have been a last-minute replacement, but we couldn't have asked for better, and he learned almost as much about Chile and Bolivia as we did.

Then the gates opened, and Joan and I filed in. We waited as various announcements were made in Spanish, listening for the words "Buenos Aires" and watching the runway for an aircraft. One came! The flight was straightforward, and Joan had an enthusiastic running conversation with a young woman named Macarena. In Buenos Aires the airport was chaotic, still recovering, but we managed to pick up our bags and find our transfer to the Hotel Lafayette, where we had stayed on our first night of this trip. There we had a straightforward and welcome dinner, then returned to our room and plunged into slumber.

Our flight back to the U.S. wouldn't depart until about 9pm the next day, so we would have time for a brief exploration of the city. That will be the subject of the final blog post, the bookend, of our journey.